


Foreign Affairs

by SpaceVaquero



Category: Narcos (TV)
Genre: Anti-US sentiment, Canon-Typical Violence, Character Study, F/M, Gen, Implied/Referenced Terrorism, Multi, Narcotics, Non-Graphic Violence, Period Typical Attitudes, Period-Typical Racism, Period-Typical Sexism, Politics, References to Depression, U.S involvement abroad, Updating bc reader is referred to in feminine pronouns in spanish
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-09
Updated: 2021-02-11
Packaged: 2021-03-14 22:13:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,910
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29303286
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SpaceVaquero/pseuds/SpaceVaquero
Summary: “I had forgotten how much light there is in the world, till you gave it back to me.”― Ursula K. Le Guin, A Wizard of Earthsea
Relationships: Javier Peña/Original Character(s), Javier Peña/Reader
Comments: 2
Kudos: 11





	1. Prologue

Studying Foreign Affairs in university led to a smooth path of a surprising amount of opportunities in life, most of which absolutely bored you to death. Not long after graduation, you came to learn the dreadful dullness of bureaucracy and the sleaziness of foreign politics. You had spent months and months and months bouncing around through jobs; each one draining all the excitement and anticipation you had built your entire academic career and completely draining the life out of you. Bureaucracy was hard, cold, and most of the time left you dejected and feeling futile, despite your hardest efforts. You were depressed, or maybe you were just sad. Either way, you couldn’t distinguish the two as you came home from work after having spent weeks trying to speed files through the legal department. Your efforts had prevailed but it still didn’t stop the assholes in administration from killing your project before it had even gained a life. Rat-ass bastards. Feeling sad and rejected from the exhaustion of foreign policy, you’d decided to lie in bed until morning. Until then, you’ll try to come up with some reason to get up. Doubtful, though. 

Of course, you returned to work, begrudgingly though; you didn’t feel better (shocker!). So when small talk about the latest diplomatic drama led to an acquaintance casually offering, but really just mentioning (no really, they were just mentioning), a secretarial position that had just opened at the Colombian Embassy your lack of hesitation didn’t seem to faze you. You accepted the offer on the spot. Perhaps this was it; take a step back and immerse yourself someplace new, a whole different environment and culture. The thought of being away from these fussy cities and their even fussier political leader made your soul sing. Suddenly, you felt like doing something brash. South America had been on your radar and you were just itching to explore the world, so what the hell was stopping you? 

For months, you’d felt your life lacked a spark and everything seemed dull and lifeless. Life lacked that fire, that casual fearlessness, and the appetite for curiosity and exploration. And just the thought of leaving fanned that flame. You pictured yourself having time to explore anthropology museums and writing in little cafés. When every nerve in your body buzzed and told you to go, you followed your instinct. 

Smugly slamming the two-week notice on the desk of your superior, your leave from the consulate was filed shortly after, and three weeks later, all of the apartment was either in a big cardboard box being loaded on a plane, donated, or in a suitcase. You held a small box and a potted plant, which would be a parting gift for your friend Sydney.

Your last few weeks in the city were rife with early afternoon lunches and late-nights at bars with friends, and sprinkled in were the occasional teary goodbye and ardent see-you-later. Your friends were more than willing to indulge your goodbye and really have a night on the town(which were always followed by a groggy morning); ‘it wasn’t every day someone dropped everything to move across the equator,’ your friend Céliné had said. In the end, you couldn’t deny you were grateful to those who’d shown you kindness these past few months. You hoped those you’d encountered in Colombia would be too.

As the sunset’s light shone across the apartment in a golden haze, you closed your eyes and let out a deep breath. For a second, you could have heard the ocean crash against the shore miles away. Feeling this chapter coming to a close, a single tear streamed down your cheek and you didn’t know if it was out of relief or a type of grief but you let out the emotion wash away your anxieties nonetheless. 

As you walked across the terminal gate, you couldn't help but feel giddy with excitement at the opportunity of a new, fresh start away from this country. It felt like it had trapped you and you couldn’t wait to breathe in the air of a whole new place and discover who you were once more.

Maybe this would be the fresh start, maybe some inspiration will strike and you’d enroll in a few night classes, really immerse yourself in a whole different culture that you were used to and reach the moment of enlightenment you seemed to be searching for so ardently. 

The flight was fine. You’d been on worse but a ten-hour flight was a ten-hour flight nonetheless, so indulging yourself, the stewardess handed you a beverage (or two) to keep you buzzed until the layover so you read and slept most of the way. Longer flights were no strangers and one that less than 12 hours on one wouldn’t faze you; somehow, the flight was mildly relaxing.The layover in Mexico City was long enough for you to purchase a decent meal. After finishing your food and buying a water bottle for the last flight, you made your way towards the gates, taking a final breath as you walked down the gates, seated yourself once more, and disembarked towards your final destinationBogotá, Colombia.

Customs was fine despite the long line. The jet lag wasn’t too bad and you had been awake enough to try some greasy but delicious street food your taxi driver recommended but tired enough to crash the second you checked into your room. You had been told you would stay in a hotel until the time they assigned you an apartment to call home in one of the complexes owned by the embassy and could get settled in. At least you would be spending the night sleeping on some fresh sheets. The bed was cushy enough, but not over the top luxurious.

It raised your suspicions a bit, what exactly was your job at the embassy? Come to think of it, no one had given a straight answer. You knew it has something to do with the ambassador’s office but you thought it would be like those boring old temp you interned at in New York.Ones were they assigned desks all the boring paperwork and press-related meetings. This didn’t seem boring temp to you. You pushed those thoughts aside and favored a deep sleep laying on a soft pillow. Sleep was dreamless but pleasant. 

A shrill beeping noise jolted you awake. It took a second to register the noise. The phone, but you didn’t remember placing a wake-up call. After a quick swipe of the phone and a groggy response later, a polite feminine voice greeted you.

“I have a Señor Guerrero here to see you, he says you spoke on the phone,” the receptionist informed you in smooth English. 

“ _Gracias_ , I’ll be right there.” Hanging up, you uttered a deep ‘Fuck!’ and quickly tossed the blankets aside. Crossing the room,you rummaged frantically through your luggage for something casual but formal to wear. Surely this would be a work meeting.After a quick comb through your hair, you freshened up and walked down the hallway into the elevator.

You had spoken to Miguel Guerrero a few weeks ago over the phone. He had formally introduced himself as assistant director at the Ambassador’s office and politely congratulated you and informed you that he would be in charge of coordinating your arrival in Colombia. Through the phone, he seemed like a formal, no-nonsense type of fellow and you were surprised that your assumption was correct. He stood tall in the hotel lobby, brick phone perched on his shoulder and pressed against his ear as he scribbled notes into a leather notebook.

“No, that won’t do. I said we are only free on Wednesday the 8th or Monday the 13th,” he paused to let the other line respond. “Then you’ll have to wait until the end of the month.

It’s not my fault you're too lazy to schedule a meeting in advance. I have to go, Mr. Pullman. Mr.-Mr.Pul- Goodbye, Jerry!,” he cursed into the phone as he hung up the heated call. “Viejo Puto!” 

“Señor Guerrero,” you asked and introduced yourself. He huffed in embarrassment at being caught in such a moment. 

“Sorry, that was unprofessional of me. Sometimes I just let myself get carried away in the moment.” He spoke in an eloquent but slightly accented tone. You smiled pleasantly, knowing you wouldn’t be entirely unlucky when it came to your fellow coworkers.

“No worries,-“ you went to answer but he cut you off and a split second later was back to business. 

“Where are your bags?” You froze. 

“Sorry, I was unaware I was leaving right now.” Having just arrived, you had assumed you would be staying a couple of days before you moved into your apartment. 

“Yes, well, we weren’t able to reserve a place in the main embassy apartment building in time but we were able to fit you into one of the sub-complexes. Unfortunately, it’s a little farther into town than the other complex but it’s in a nice area, local but it’s close enough to a metropolitan district. It should do until a vacancy opens up,” he chattered on as he led you out of the lobby and into the street as he flagged down a car. “Since you're not ready today, we can head into the embassy for the day, get your keys to your apartment and go over the paperwork and the basic run-through of your job here. Tomorrow, we’ll get your photo take for your credentials and badges.”

“Badges? I thought I was just doing a temp job?” A flicker of confusion crossed his face before it turned to a comforting smile.

  
“No mija, your position is for the executive secretarial assistant to the Ambassador.”

“Oh,” you started. S _hit!_

“Is everything alright?” Guerrero asked politely. 

“Yea, I just thought this job would take me away from…” you trailed off unsure how to phrase it but Guerrero was helpful enough.

“Bureaucracy?” He finished for you.

“Yeah, something like that.” 

“If it makes you feel better, Ambassador Noonan and I do most of the heavy lifting when it comes to that. You’re just mainly in charge of the planning and organization side of things, and I’ve read your resume and can assure you are more than qualified for this position.” That brightened your attitude a bit more.

“Well, lead the way, Señor Guerrero.”

“Please call me, Miguel.”

The Ambassador’s office was nice. The windows looked out into the courtyard and let in a pleasant mid-morning breeze to accompany the shuffling of papers and clacking of typewriters.

Once Ambassador Noonan had a few minutes to spare, Miguel arranged for a quick introduction.

“Is this Coleen’s replacement?” asked Noonan as she shook your hand.

“Yes, ma’am,” you and Miguel answered simultaneously. 

“Miguel showed me your resume. You’re extremely overqualified,” She said in more of a statement. You glowed in the praise nonetheless. 

“Yes, ma’am but you say ‘overqualified’ I think ‘over-competent.’ I think I’m right where I need to be.” You said.

“I hope you prove me right then,” she spoke, peering over her paper and under her lashes.”So then, what brings you to Colombia?”

“Just looking for a fresh start, ma’am.”

“Well, you’ve certainly come to the right place,” she said in a tone that held some sort of inside joke. “This place ‘ill give you as fresh a start as you need. Looking forward to having you on the team.” 

Miguel led you into his office where you both overlooked the conditions of your job. He handed you a pen and you sign the official contract. He handed you the keys to your apartment and, with a final handshake, he welcomed you to Colombia. 

You made your way out of the Embassy, ignoring the occasional curious glances or rude and obvious stares. You were fresh meat in a federal institution, in a place that didn’t necessarily welcome you in the workplace; you were used to it, you thought as you counted the jeering glares from the _bureaucratic bastards_ from the embassy. 

Maybe you should have worn the pantyhose you brought. It had been a particularly warm day, so you thought bare legs wouldn’t be much of a problem. The low whistle coming behind you contradicted your thoughts. With a huff, you made your way out of the building and hailed down a taxi. Regardless, you made a note to wear stockings tomorrow.

You ate lunch alone at a little café not too far from the embassy in downtown Bogotá and made some small talk with the kindly owner and learned that the family-owned business had been serving Colombian’s since the ’20s. Thanking the owner for her hospitality and leaving to buy a few essentials at a nearby department store before you walked back to your hotel. 

Packing was easy enough, you placed all your belongings near the door and double-checked for any forgotten belongings. You called the receptionist desk to hail a cab in anticipation of your departure. Disappointment grew in your stomach. Hate to admit it, but hotel life was good to you. No use crying over spilled milk though! Giving the place a final look through, you jotted down a quick note and set down a few American dollars next to it as you hadn’t exchanged some cash into pesos yet, and closed the door with a quiet‘ click.’

Bringing your luggage down to the check out desk was easy enough. You’d learned your lesson when you overpacked in Washington.Your apartment complex had had a broken elevator at the time and carrying 3 suitcases full of shit proved to be a difficult task. Luckily, you had a shy but kind bellhop to help move it this time around.

After all, your luggage was fitted in the trunk and the driver had the address, you made your way to your home for the foreseeable future.

The streets of Colombia were beautiful, sure, it was messy and raw, but the way the sun broke over the hills and bathed the sky in a pink glow blew your breath away.

Miguel was right, the apartment complex was in a nice area, it was a single building complex with a glazed-glass and iron-barred door.You assumed it was more fortified than it seemed. Sure, it wasn’t the main embassy building, but you figured the tenants warranted enough importance for adequate protection. You paid the taxi driver and tipped him generously for his gracious help with your luggage. 

Making your way up the stairs, you realized your apartment was on the top floor. Cheap bastards, you mused but made your way towards the opening doors nonetheless. At least the last place had an elevator. 

Opening the doors with a heavy breath, you were surprised at how… wooden your place was. The hallway was fine enough, it was wide and led to the bedroom and bathroom and connected into both the kitchen and the living room, and some sort of little office area nearer to the threshold. Miguel has informed you that most of the housing came pre-furnished, but all the furniture was very… green and brown. Well, at least you had a lot of natural light, you thought. 

Entering your room, the furnishing was more low key than the living room. Grabbing the bedding you’d bought earlier, you stretched it across the full-sized mattress. After you finished adjusting the sheets and preparing for bed, you plopped eagerly in bed and found yourself pleasantly surprised that the mattress wasn’t as lumpy as you’d anticipated. You’d found the giddy excitement you recognized at the airport early yesterday morning. You recalled the eagerness you felt as explored your new home. Maybe this job would open the door to some brand new revelation or maybe the country would teach you something you knew about yourself. You’d been told your job would be a little cushy with a comfortable salary, but you’d mainly be on the sidelines. 

But nobody warned you how harshly the gunshots echoed at night. 


	2. First Impressions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I cannot fix on the hour, or the spot, or the look or the words, which laid the foundation. It is too long ago. I was in the middle before I knew that I had begun.”  
> ― Jane Austen, Pride and Prejudice

You didn’t know the exact parameters of your job’s expectations but you were sure your contract didn’t say anything about serving anyone coffee. After tossing and turning all night and not a wink of sleep, you were _not_ in the mood for this.

“Can I get a coffee, black with three sugars, _Linda_?” You glanced up from your translation as you gave a cheshire smile to the asshole that had graced your presence. It was nearly noon on a Monday and you had been expecting some of the federal officials around the office to meet for the debrief with Ambassador Noonan so of course, you’d expected them to mistake you for some sort of temp or unlucky intern filling in. Naturally, you’d been prepared.

“Sure,” you answered and coated your voice in a sticky sweet tone. You made sure you batted your lashes for good measure. “Mr…?

“ _Agent_ Peña, DEA, but you can call me Javier.” He was law Enforcement; _Of course._ Painting a simpering smile on your face, you cooed at his title.

“Agent Peña,” you repeated and you couldn’t believe he was buying it as the grin on his face grew impossibly wider, _chump_. “How exciting! And do you have a gun, Agent?” This guy was eating it up and he leaned over your desk close enough to whisper inches from your face. Maybe, if he wasn’t such a dick, you would have found this moment surprisingly attractive. (Hmm, maybe).

He was handsome enough. Dark and soft hair, but hair that could surely use a comb, and equally brown eyes. He had a charming nose that accented his profile beautifully. He wore a cream suit that screamed Saturday night fever but it suited his complexion nonetheless and hugged him just right. Too bad he was such an ass.

“If I did,” he paused to give your upper torso a rake over. “I’d have to _bring you in_.” You groaned internally. Lifting yourself out of the chair, you stood up to level yourself with him and bring yourself just an inch closer.

“Well, I better get on that coffee, _Agent Peña,_ ” you spoke smoothly before you walked towards the coffee machine to fix a _nice cup of joe_. 

After you were sure you made the coffee _just the way he’d like it_ , you returned to the boardroom and found more people gathered along the table. Agent Peña sat near the entrance seated next to a tall blond man.

From across the boardroom, Miguel almost gawked as you placed the mug in front of Peña and exchanged matching grins. Peña thanked you as a hand slinked around the mug, brought it closer to himself,and raked his eyes over you once more for good measure; just as quick, he turned back to finish his phrase and continued his conversation with the other man, but not without sparing a second for a quick glance at your ass. You made your way towards the empty seat next to Miguel as he sat adjacent to the ambassador.

“Peña?” he whispered harshly.

“Relax, Miguel. It’s just business,” you replied cooly, opening your notebook to take notes. 

“Yeah, you say that but,” he trailed off. “Listen, I don’t mean to involve myself in your private affairs,” he paused, tumbling over his thoughts before he resumed. “But, well, the rumor is, he had something to do with the leave of your predecessor,” He finished in a way that you assumed was _‘_ putting it lightly’.

“Colleen?” You asked.

“ _Esa mera._ I know you’re a consenting adult and all, but Peña… Jesus, that man _es un mero puto_.” You couldn’t help but laugh at his statement and you felt sort of touched that he was already worried about you. You patted his hand in affirmation.

“Don’t worry about me, Miguel. I’m a big girl, I know how to take care of myself.” 

Noonan began the meeting, cutting your conversation short. As she trailed through her quick overview, you sat across from Peña silently waiting. The meeting passed by slowly, your anticipation stretching out the meeting painfully slow. Jesus did this man like cold coffee like some kind of freak! You tried your best to pay attention to Noonan’s debrief but you got lost when you didn’t understand or know certain details. You’d have to ask Miguel to fill you in later.

A rough choking noise cut off Noonan’s debrief of the liaison coming from D.C. Across the room, Peña coughed out part of his coffee as his mouth sputtered like a fish.Coffee stained a quarter of his notes and just a bit of his cream suit, which albeit now had various stains that sported a more of a _cafe con leche_ type of shade. You almost felt bad, almost, but the look on the blonde’s face as he tried to hold in his laughter was enough to assure you this was a long time coming.

“Everything all right, Agent Peña?” said Noonan in a tone similar to a school teacher who just caught a kid taking during a lesson. Much like a classroom, the entire room stared him down in absolute silence, waiting for his response.

“Yeah, just some bad coffee, ma’am,” Peña answered and you ignored his glare as you ‘busied’ yourself with notes.

“Not bad, _gringa_ , not bad,” Miguel whispered under his breath and you tried your best to suppress the smirk that spread on your face.

Javier had waited for the boardroom to empty out before he approached you sitting on your desk.

“Salt? Very cute, _Chiquitita_ ,” he seethed as he placed the mug of ruined coffee on your desk. “That little stunt can get you in big trouble, y’know.”

“Ahhh, is that supposed to be threatening, Agent Peña,” You poted, not sparing a glance from the document you’d been typing. “I don't work for your department so your threats can't exactly work on me, Agent Peña. It was a very sweet try, though.”

“Some secretary you are! Doesn’t even know how to make a decent coffee,” he sputtered out, teeth clenched together like he was trying to muffle the sound coming from his throat. 

"Yeah, well good thing that it’s only my first day, buster. Got a lot of time to learn how to make coffee," you simpered. 

"Real cute pulling that I act," he spoke, running a hand through his hair and taking a step back from his desk.

“Yeah, well I thought it was very cute.” You gave a fake pout to emphasize your point accompanied by big puppy-dog eyes. “And I’m not a secretary, I happen to be E _xecutive Assistant S_ ecretary,” you emphasized pointing to the shiny brass plaque on perched at the edge of your desk.

He cursed under his breath as he made his way out of the office. You grinned ear to ear as you turned your attention back to the keyboard and tipped cheerily away, glad to put the man in place.

Maybe you were just where you needed to be.

The first week in Colombia went by in the blink of an eye. You had spent your mornings stuck in boring debriefs with American Generals and Colombian politicians. God, it bored you to death and you had the bruises courtesy of Miguel’s elbows that matched the number of times he caught you yawning, but at least you didn’t have to negotiate with those dicks, right. 

Which meant Noonan stuck you with most of the mindless paperwork that filtered into her office and on to your desk; you passed hours and hours at your desk reflexively signing and corroborating documents from various departments. Sadly, paperwork was your forté which only encouraged Noonan to trust you with most of the important documents which took until the end of your shift to finish. God, it was brainless work, but at least it encouraged you to look for something fun to do. 

You started your late afternoons and early evenings on a lighter note and spent them at local flea markets and shops in search of knick-knacks to decorate your plain apartment and just generally perusing the storefronts. You had managed to find a few pieces of art and purchased a fig house plant to grace the living room, but you debated transforming the office area into a reading nook and contemplated placing it there. Everything was slowly piecing together and you felt a certain ember spark within your chest as you awoke one early Tuesday morning to make coffee and gazed at the cream-colored clouds that swirled in the sky like a painting. It reminded you of the romantic landscape paintings you’d seen in Amsterdam. As you took in the beauty of the Colombian sky, you allowed the wave of nostalgia to sweep through you and wash your emotions clean. Maybe you were just where you needed to be.

Today’s mission had taken you to the Colombian equivalent of Bed, Bath, and Beyond, which was just a little market with a kind saleswoman who patiently explained to you the mechanics of Colombian cookware.

You had bought a few _cazos_ , some _ollas_ , and more than plenty of groceries to break the shiny copper in. Due to long and exhausting work you'd miraculously finished ahead of schedule, you had spent most of the week eating out and had consumed more than enough junk food to last you the rest of the year. Stumbling into the apartment complex, you accidentally smacked a copper saucepan against the door on your way to close it, startling the poor woman making her way down the stairs. She stood frozen on the stairs as you let out a shaky breath. 

“My goodness, I am so sorry. The saleswoman didn’t tell me how heavy and _loud_ these pots would be,” you joked and she let out a joyful and lilting laugh. She was blonde and had a jovial and friendly face. She gave a kind and nurturing aura, so you had half-expected her help. 

“Don’t worry about it. You’ve got your hands full, here let me help.”

“No, please, I don’t mean to slow you down. I got this.”

“No, I insist. These stairs nearly kill me on a daily basis. Besides, I need to rake in the good neighborly karma. I’m afraid I cashed it all in when I borrowed eggs from Sandra down the hall last week.”

“Well, only because you cashed in your karma,” you relented as you handed her the lighter bag of groceries. You took this as an opportunity to introduce yourself.

“I’m Connie,” she spoke. “So, did you just move in? I haven’t seen you around the building.”

“Yeah, this Monday, though I haven’t really considered it moving in yet. A lot of my stuff is coming in sometime this next week.”

“Oh, so you just moved to the country. Do you work in the Embassy?”

“Yeah, just a desk job, sort of temp job I guess” youanswered. If you left anything unanswered, she didn’t press.

“So what brings you to Colombia?” she asked the question of the week once you reach the second flight of stairs. You paused for a second, searching for a good reason, a smart and adequate response. You had told many people many different things, just because the truth seemed so bizarre and outlandish leaving your mouth. You had made big change, you acted as you had been running away from something. No one just left everything behind. Yet, the week was long and exhausting and you were too tired of making up pretenses so you settled for honesty, however childish it made you sound. 

“Just a fresh start. I was growing sick and tired of my old job, so when I was offered this position, I just kinda, didn’t hesitate.”

“So wait, you just dropped _everything_ and moved to Colombia?” she spoke with a hint of awe in her voice.

“Like a hat. I mean, was there anything to really leave behind? I lived in a city with no relative or family around, I didn't have any roots, I was going nowhere in my job, and I’d never been to South America before so I thought ‘What the Hell?'” You professed. 

Connie laughter, absolutely delighted by your antics.

“What the Hell!” Repeated Connie.

“‘What the Hell!’” You affirmed. 

After a long trek up the stairs which left you both more winded than it should have, you let her enter in your apartment. 

“Sorry, I’m still moving in so I apologize for the sort of…” you swirled your hand around as if it would conjure a word in your mind. “Nakedness? I guess, it’s just sparse.” Connie just giggled again.

“Not a problem,” she started but then took a moment to look around the empty space.

“It it is pretty sparse. Wow, you did just take the job, didn’t you? My husband and I delayed our flight two weeksjust to make sure our stuff would get here around the same time as us.”

“Yeah, I know, I know. My apartment is pretty… skeletal at the moment. I didn’t see the point of shipping all of my old apartment decor to a different continent, but I definitely don’t plan on keeping it like this. I mean I think I’m just gonna rely on a few local pieces and really focus on a minimalist aspect.”

Connie mumbled in agreement as she took in the apartment.

“Hmm, that could work. You have the wall color for it and nice open windows to fill in the empty space. Kitchen’s big enough so the living room won’t feel too empty; good eye!”

Connie left half an hour after chatting over potential kitchen backsplashes over your barren kitchen island and her favorite little _mércados_ scattered across Bogotá. You had invited her to stay for dinner, but she declined your offer but thanked you nonetheless, stating that she had a date to make. 

So you paced around your kitchen as you attempted to try the dish your colleague Letty had mentioned and you couldn’t help but feel curious about the recipe. 

As you stared out you living room windowas the meat simmered on the pan and the aromatics filled the room with a warm and comforting sense, a serene feeling that had been lost on you for quite some time. It was strange, such a violent but beautiful and breathtaking country could evoke such a sense of inner peace. As you gazed at the big open sky canvasing all of Bogotá, the deep pink and light blue mingling slightly with the clouds to produce rich violet colors near the far hills, you couldn’t help but smile. 

“ _Carne Fresca_ ,” comments the man in uniform as you enter the DEA with a stack of manilla folders in your arms Murphy had asked you to gather for some intel from the meeting with the Attorney General. Murphy had introduced himself later on in the day not too long after your second interaction with Peña. He greeted you kindly and congratulated you on the impression you'd left on Peña that had impressed him two. He confirmed that Peña had it a long time coming. You decided that Murphy was the nicer of the two partners. Since  Murphy had been kind enough and you’d finished work ahead of schedule so you didn’t mind doing him a favor. Too bad he wasn’t anywhere in sight.

“Agent Peña,” you greet.

“Señorita,” he replies curtly, not even looking up in your direction, and introduces you to his visitor. “This Colonel Carillo from Search Bloc.” 

“Nice to meet you, Colonel Carillo,” you introduced yourself politely before you turned your attention back towards Peña. “These are the files Murphy asked for, transcripts from the Ambassador’s meeting and the documents faxed from the ministry.” 

“Hmm, _trabajadora_?” Carillo asks Peña as if you weren’t there yourself. It stunned you a moment but years of testosterone-fueled bureaucracy gave more than enough practice to handle to the misogynistic ways of male government officials. 

“ _No está mal, rápida y ligera_ ,” comments Peña.

“ _Y que está media linda, no crees Peña_?” Carillo jokes back.

_“Y no es de mi tipo_ ,” jokes Peña right back. _Oh_?

_“Y ustedes son medio torpes por hablar enfrente de un. No me hagan la jodiada, chicos. Acuerden que les estoy haciendo favor, Peña._ ”You snipe right back, scathing as you slam the files on top of the map on Peña’s desk and walk out the room leaving the embarrassed men gaping at your exit. You had better shit to do than go through this. Jesus fuck, if you ever saw Peña again, it would be too soon.

Two hours and thirty-three minutes were too soon, you thought as you heard a deep voice speak behind you as you made your way into of the hallway leading from the cafeteria and into the courtyard.

“I didn’t know-“

“I spoke Spanish while living in a Spanish-speaking country while I’m working as a secretary to an Ambassador in said Spanish-speaking, not very astute of you, Agent Peña,” you finish for him, not even breaking step in your stride or turning back to look at him. You quicken your pace as he continues to follow. 

“I know but I didn’t think-“

“Now that I believe,” you chime. 

“Can you just shut up while I try to apologize?”

“Do you make a habit of speaking about someone in front of their face?” you stopped in your tracks and Peña shrunk back to avoid collide into you. Peña had the gall to look almost ashamed. You didn’t let it phase you so you turned back to continue your path. 

“Don’t worry about it, you wouldn’t be the first bureaucratic asshat to make sleazy comments in my face.”

“And now you’re calling me a bureaucrat; I deserve that. Well, Carillo is an asshole and I shouldn’t have egged him on.”  
“No, you shouldn’t have.”

“You know that what I’m trying to say. I’m sorry. Let me make it up to you.”

“Honestly, Peña,” you huffed as you stopped dead center in the hallway. Peña followed suit effectively blocking the middle of the path. The other embassy employees simply pushed past you two and squeezed through the sides of the incredibly narrow hallway to avoid what looked like a heated conversation. 

“It’s fine, I don’t know why you’re being so weird about this,” you fumed.

“I’m serious-“

“So am I. We can call it even after the whole coffee thing.”

“Fine, but all I did was ask for you to get me a coffee,”

“Oh, I’m sorry? I must’ve not read the line that said ‘waitress’ in the fine print of my contract. Honestly, Peña,” He looked like a deer caught in the headlines as you tore into him.

“Same difference as an assistant,” Your jaw nearly dropped as he continued, and backtracked.

“How could I resist? Look, I’m sorry, I just took it as my opportunity to approach you and introduce myself.”

“You introduce yourself to women by asking them to make you cups of coffee?” Peña stuttered

“How was I gonna know you would be evil enough to pour salt in it!” He said as he furrowed his brow.

“Maybe you should try asking me a little more nicely next time,” you replied.

“You’re impossible,” he groaned as began to push past you.

“And you’re infuriating!” you snarked back as you made your way in his opposite direction. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> But a little sw reference, or as I like to call them *cinematic parallels* if you will, in there btw <3
> 
> Spanish translations(thought leaving this out but ig I'll be nice):
> 
> mero puto: fucking dick
> 
> trabajadora: hard worker?
> 
> No está mal, rápida y ligera: not bad, quick and easy
> 
> Y que está media linda, no crees Peña?: and kinda pretty, no?
> 
> Y no es de mi tipo, : And not my type
> 
> Y ustedes son medio torpes por hablar enfrente de un. No me hagan la jodiada, chicos. Acuerden que les estoy haciendo favor: And both of you kinda stupid for speaking in someone's face. Stop fucking with me, boys. Remember I'm doing a favor.
> 
> Update: I fixed it a little bit cuz I published just as the edible was hitting. Added a few sentences to make it less confusing but rlly no difference in reading.

**Author's Note:**

> Ok ok, so 1) yes, I do be obsessed with Javi, but I absolutely hate that he's a narc and a fed. I don't plan on changing that but I do plan on exploring it thematically, 2) I feel that a lot of narcos fics sort of don't focus on the emotional toll/how draining these things are for everyone essentially. I really wanted to explore that and get to the nitty-gritty part of that, and 3)reader is meant to be more of an original character but is written as a sort of blank canvas so everyone can easily insert whomever they'd like to(though tbh I personally imagine them as someone who is latinx if not BIPOC and fem-presenting just bc sexism is going to play a small role later on, but I'm leaving it up for interpretation). Though I do want to warn you, as I'm sure you can already tell, the reader was experiencing some bouts of depression/loneliness/sadness and I do plan on exploring darker themes of U.S involvement abroad and the toll of these things on the psyche so it can get a bit heavy and I wouldn't necessarily want you guys to picture yourselves in those shoes, but who am I to discourage you! Essentially, I'm treating this as a character study first and Javi fic second. anywho, please enjoy xoxo!!


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